Semper Fi
by JenniFromtheBlock
Summary: Some more love for Cristina and Owen. Post 5x19
1. Chapter 1

Owen turned the corner and saw Cristina and Meredith standing by the nurse's station. He stopped, and then stepped backwards around the corner and out of sight. He paused, frustrated and angry with himself. He wanted to see Cristina, to talk to her. You used to not be like this, he thought to himself. It used to be, when you wanted to do something, you did it. When you wanted to say something, you said it. Not all this hesitation and worry. What's wrong with you?

Of course, you never choked your girlfriend before, either.

He stood there around the corner, uncertain. Then he reminded himself that he didn't want to lose her permanently. This was an unexpected detour in their relationship, but he was determined not to allow it to stop him from ever being with her again. Not now that he knew what it felt like to kiss her, to hold her, to truly be a part of her. He continued walking forward, trying to give the impression that he had never had to pause and think about it.

Cristina saw him coming towards them over Meredith's shoulder. Her brows furrowed; she looked questioningly at him, but not displeased. Owen continued to approach until he was standing near the two of them.

"Dr. Yang, may I have a word with you?" Owen asked, glancing nervously at Meredith.

Meredith looked coldly at him and without looking at Cristina started to speak, "Cristina, I don't th--,"

Cristina turned to Meredith. "Slept with you while still married. Called you a whore. Ring in your face. Got engaged."

Meredith's eyes narrowed and she gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'll be in the cafeteria." She turned abruptly and left without looking back.

Cristina watched her leave for a moment, and then turned her gaze to Owen. They looked at each other warily until Owen broke the silence. "Could we, uh...," he nodded towards the supply closet. Cristina's eyes flickered towards the door, back to Owen. She hesitated, then nodded. They moved across the hall, where he held the door open for her, and then followed her in.

Inside the room they each felt an unfamiliar nervousness. The one thing they had both always reveled in was the automatic comfort of the other's company; now, the unease was disconcerting. They felt lost, as if someone had spun them each around blindfolded and left them to stumble around trying to find their way back to one another.

Owen leaned back against the door, trying to keep himself as far from her as possible. He feared he would frighten her if he came too close, and he feared the look he might see in her eyes if she did become afraid. It tore him up to think of her afraid of him.

"I started therapy," he said. "I…I just wanted you to know."

"Good," Cristina said. "That's good." She tilted her head to the side, and felt her bottom lip quiver just the slightest bit. She hoped he hadn't noticed. Keep it together, she thought to herself. He's not ready to deal with your feelings on top of his own issues.

Owen looked down at the floor and sighed. There was so much he wanted to tell her: how he never stopped thinking about her, how he needed to be near her, how he knew that now that they had been together, there would never be another woman for him. And that he could never forgive himself for what he had done to her.

"I miss you," he said to her, almost in a whisper.

Cristina took in a small breath. She wondered if she heard correctly.

"I miss you, too," she replied. He looked up from the ground into her eyes. Neither moved; to move might break the spell of possibility and hope that hung in the air.

"I'm going to fix this. Fix us," he said. His eyes implored her to believe him. Cristina stood still, wanting desperately to believe him. She knew he could fix himself, but she didn't have any clue how he was going to fix her. She wanted more than anything to wake up in his arms every day, but she knew that would never happen if she couldn't fall asleep with him in the same bed.

The sound of Cristina's pager broke the heavy silence. She grabbed at it and checked the screen impatiently. "I have to go," she said, looking back at him.

"Yeah." He stepped away from the door and opened it for her. She glanced up at him and she began to exit the room, and he panicked. She was leaving before he could even figure out what to say to her. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Can I—can I call you?"

She paused briefly, considering, and then nodded yes. The pager went off again, and she rushed out the door.

Can I call you? He thought to himself. What was that? It was not smooth, and it was not what he wanted to say. But it was a start, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

And so it began that evening. Owen called, and they talked awkwardly about their day. It was a short and clumsy conversation; too much was left unsaid for it to be anything else. But it was something.

The next night he called again, and the night after that, as well. Soon, she came to expect him to call around the same time every evening, always leaving a voicemail if she couldn't pick up. The calls never lasted long, but eventually the awkwardness began to dissipate. They talked about their days, the things that had happened, patients they had seen. Superficiality masked the intimacy that they both wanted, and both feared.

**

One night, Owen called on the landline instead of Cristina's cell. Unknowingly, Callie picked up the extension, and when she realized it was in use, and who was talking, she quietly hung up, hoping they hadn't noticed the interruption. After that, she began to pay attention to the interaction between Owen and Cristina in the hospital. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, or at least, more unusual than one would expect in such a crazy circumstance, but she still watched for clues. The more Callie observed, the less Owen seemed the type to do what she saw that night, or what she thought she saw. Cristina's hug after the incident had been imprinted in Callie's mind as the act of someone almost under the influence; now she began to understand that there may have been a whole lot more to what she witnessed than she ever realized. And in spite of herself, Callie started to remember why she had liked Owen so much in the first place. He really did seem like a good guy caught in the throes of something out of his control.

It was a quiet evening in the ER, and Callie had just finished setting the broken leg of a car accident victim. She was filling out paperwork at the desk when Owen stopped to drop off a few charts. She glanced over at him, and noticed for the first time how tired he looked.

"Dr. Torres," he said, "quiet night."

"Yeah," she replied. She waited a few moments, then closed the folders she had been writing in and put down her pen. "Are you okay? You look exhausted."

"I'm fine," he answered abruptly, trying to ignore her.

Callie lowered her voice. "No, I really mean it. Are you okay? Do you—do you need some help with something?" Owen took her in fully, surprised at her question.

"I didn't think you would want to have anything to do with me."

"I didn't think I did, either," Callie answered, with a small smile. "But something tells me I'm missing a piece of the puzzle."

Owen considered the situation. Here was one of Cristina's friends, offering to help him. Perhaps he wasn't as awful as he thought he was. He hated talking to the shrink, but it had seemed to help his sleep habits in the past few weeks, and telling Callie might be a roundabout way to tell Cristina that he really was making the effort.

Owen started to say something, then stopped. Callie waited patiently; she already knew Owen was not a forthcoming person, and it must be a tremendous struggle for him to tell her anything personal.

"I'm in therapy. I have some—some issues dealing with some things that happened to me while I was in Iraq. I thought I could deal with it myself, but after everything--" he stopped and took in a deep breath after the everything. Callie got the feeling that "everything" was a bit more than she knew. "After it all happened with Cristina, I had to get some help."

Callie nodded, taking him in. She knew that it couldn't have been easy for him to tell her, and it must be excruciating for him to talk to the psychiatrist. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Owen was surprised a second time. He thought about his words carefully before he spoke, and then they just tumbled out. "Just, please--just don't let Cristina think I'm a bad person. I would never, ever want to harm her, in any way. I only want her to be happy."

Now it was Callie's turn to be surprised. She was taken aback by the passion of his declaration. And then it dawned on her. He was in love with Cristina. It was so obvious that she wondered how she could have been so foolish as to have not seen it all this time.

"I don't think she thinks you're a bad person. Far from it, in fact, " Callie said, quietly. "Do you know that I have never seen her hug anyone? I mean, anyone at all? Until that night, when she hugged you. Never once. And to hug you after that happened? You must be pretty special."

Owen's eyes widened. He didn't know what to say.

"Don't get me wrong," Callie continued, standing up and sorting her paperwork. She looked him straight in the eye. "You've got some stuff you need to take care of." She tilted her head and looked him up and down, "But don't give up hope. If anyone can sort out this mess, I bet you can." She went around the desk and started off down the hall, looking back over her shoulder. "Semper Fi!" She yelled out to him on the way to the elevator.

He laughed, unexpectedly. "That's the Marines, Dr. Torres," he called out after her.

"Whatever," she said, waving goodbye to him as she stepped into the elevator.

He turned back to the desk, unable to stop smiling. Perhaps there was hope for him, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Cristina felt terrible. She had worked fervently on a triple bypass patient, only for him to have a heart attack on the table and die just as they were finishing the operation. After, she had stopped in to see Izzie, to find that Izzie was having a rough day recovering from yet another cancer surgery. She had tried to be positive for Izzie, as positive as she could be in her state, but Izzie was in too much pain to pay attention to anything. Cristina had held her hand for a few minutes, and when Izzie had drifted off to sleep, she left. She had wandered the halls, feeling tired and lonely, and found herself in front of the door to Owen's office. She desperately wanted to see him. She missed him so, and the phone calls weren't enough anymore. She hesitated, her hand hovering in the air, and then knocked.

"Come in," she heard, muffled from behind the wood.

She opened the door, quickly stepped inside, and closed it behind her, leaning against the knob with her hands behind her back. She felt for the lock, and pressed it.

Owen turned away from his computer screen, and his face registered surprise and uncertainty when he realized who was standing a few feet from him.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," she replied. She continued to stand by the door.

He waited, unsure of what to do or say.

Cristina took a ragged breath. She knew she was on the verge of tears, and tried to get control of them. She didn't like not being in control of herself.

Owen knew something was wrong. "Tell me," he said, simply, watching her, wanting her.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Instead of talking, she walked across the room to him, sat on his lap, and snuggled her face into his neck. His arms circled around her automatically, embracing her tightly. He felt her hot tears on his neck, and he leaned back in his chair, stroking her hair as she cried. She was so petite; her feet hovered several inches off the floor as she sat there leaning into him, her hand resting against his chest, shuddering sobs muffled against his scrubs. He kissed her forehead, and let her cry till she couldn't anymore. He felt guilty; he hated seeing her cry like this, but he loved having her in his arms, even under these circumstances.

After a few minutes, her sobbing subsided, and she sat up to look at him with her red watery eyes, which she wiped with the back of her hand.

"I hate crying," she said. "Crying is stupid." She sniffed.

He tried to stifle his urge to smile, and nodded seriously. "I know." He leaned around her, and without letting her go, grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk and handed it to her.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking slightly.

"Don't be. Don't ever be sorry." He wiped a tear drenched curl away from her face. He had missed her so, and couldn't believe how in a split second after all this time he could be so close to her. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She sighed, looking down at the now sopping shoulder of his scrub top, and ineffectively tried to wipe it dry. "It's just been a hard day. Izzie is not doing well. My patient died. And you called while I was in surgery, and I really wanted to hear your voice." She looked back up at him, and they both realized how near they were to one another, so close that he could smell her perfume, and she could see the tiny little freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose. She brought her hand up and stroked the side of his face.

"I need you," she said, and leaned her head back down onto his shoulder. "I know you're working on things," she said softly, "but I need you. Now. I can't pretend this isn't anything any longer."

He was hearing things he had longed to hear, and now that it was happening, he couldn't believe it. He sat up and took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

"Cristina—you know, I need you, too, don't you? You know that, right? You have to know it." She stared into his eyes, nodding just the slightest bit. He continued. "I need you so much that sometimes I feel like I can't breathe when I'm without you." He hesitated, and then kept on, knowing that she could see the pain in his eyes. "But I can't love you the way you deserve to be loved if you're even the slightest bit afraid of me. And I can't live with myself knowing I made you that way. Do you understand me? I'm trying to fix myself, but I don't know yet how to fix what I've done to you." He peered into her eyes, desperate to know if she understood him.

Cristina's heart filled with love and yet tore apart at the same time. He wanted to love her, and he thought he had broken her. And he had, for a time. But just in this moment she knew she had a plan, because this was too big, and too important to not have a plan. And once she realized what she had to do, what she had to at least try, she felt a weight lift from her and she felt almost happy. She was scared at the task ahead of her, but she knew she was ready; she couldn't leave it to him to shoulder the burden of making them better all on his own. So, with her head still in his hands, him watching her with that desperately sad look on his face, she leaned forward and kissed him deeply, trying to convey all the love she had for him to get them through what they were facing. And when she finally pulled away, the look of surprise on his face almost made her laugh.

"I know what I have to do now," she told him cryptically. She gave him one more quick kiss, stood up, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She went to the door, opened it, and before leaving turned back to him. "We can fix this. We can fix us." And with that, she was gone.

He didn't know what had happened, but he somehow felt elated. Something good had occurred. He didn't know what, but suddenly he had the feeling maybe they were on the right track after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Cristina needed to tell to somebody about her intentions. She ordinarily didn't look for reassurance from anyone, but this idea she had was so foreign to her usual behavior that she wanted to voice it out loud to someone who could help her confirm that her plan didn't sound ridiculous; plus, she figured she might as well get started talking since that was what lay ahead of her anyway.

Meredith wasn't ready to talk about Owen yet; she had developed a blind spot for Owen since he had hurt Cristina, and no matter how unintentional it may have been, Meredith was not ready to be open to thoughts of Cristina and Owen reuniting. Cristina understood that Meredith was being protective, but Cristina also knew that Meredith was going to have to one day grasp the fact that Owen meant to Cristina as much, if not more, than what Derek meant to Meredith.

However, there was also Callie, and Cristina had noticed how Callie had softened towards Owen recently. At first, Callie had been just as militant and angry as Meredith, but over time, especially in the past week or two, Callie seemed to have changed her opinion of Owen. She had even casually dropped his name in conversation with Cristina, possibly fishing for information, but seemingly more out of concern. So when Cristina came home that night in a pretty great mood, considering all the awful things that had happened at the hospital that day, and saw Callie sitting on the couch with a bowl of ice cream, her feet up on the coffee table, she knew she had her opportunity to talk.

Cristina sat down next to Callie. "I need to figure something out. I need you to listen and tell me I'm not crazy for doing this, because I think I know what I need to do."

Callie immediately realized this was something serious. Cristina didn't just talk. Cristina talked with purpose. So Callie nodded, and said, "Okay. I'm listening."

And Cristina began talking, talking about Owen and about herself and about them from the very beginning. And once she began talking, she couldn't stop. She told Callie everything that had happened, from the kisses to the failed date, from the panic attacks to the choking, all the way up to what had happened that very night in his office. She told Callie how she wanted to be with him, but was afraid to fall asleep with him now. Callie listened intently, and when Cristina was finally talked out, she told her the final decision she had made.

"Here's what I'm going to do, and I need you to tell me if it is crazy or not, because I always swore I would never do this. I'm going to start seeing Dr. Wyatt to see if I can get over this fear. I know I said she's a horrible shrink and that she doesn't know what she's doing and that she sucked at Meredith's therapy, but right now, it's the only solution I can come up with, and I don't know what else to try, and I need a plan. Because I can't just keep on here doing nothing and wondering what might have been if I had at least tried something. I need a plan. Does that sound like a plan?"

Callie sat back in the corner of the sofa, ruminating on all that Cristina had said, and wondered if Cristina herself even realized how much in love with Owen she was. For her to go to therapy for him, without him even knowing or asking? This was huge. Callie also recognized that at this point, it was useless to try to stop Cristina from being with Owen as long as they were both seeking help and trying to make sure that what had happened never happened again. She wasn't sure she had any business trying to stop them, anyway. After all, if the last year had proven anything to Callie, it was that you couldn't help who you fell in love with.

"I think that sounds like an excellent plan," Callie answered. "We're scientists. We need to experiment and see results and base our actions upon the outcomes. So I can't think of a better plan of action than what you've just come up with."

Cristina gave a satisfied smile. Having put her plan in terms of science, in terms she could understand and was comfortable with, made her feel even better about her decision.

And that night, knowing she had made a decision, and that she had Owen to look forward to one day, some day, she slept better than she had since before Owen had ever had his nightmare and set them on this path.


	5. Chapter 5

Except for when she was on his service, it had been days since Owen had seen Cristina. They still talked every night, and their conversations were still inconsequential and short, despite what had happened in his office. She had given him no clue to what she had meant by her declaration, and had not mentioned it since. He was curious, but he did not want to push her. He had the feeling that this was something he had ought to let her figure out on her own.

He was in the hospital early today, and was tired. He had been out late at Joe's the night before, drinking beers with Derek and Mark. It had been fun, and it was good to be out with guys again. He missed the camaraderie of having buddies to hang out with, and now that Mark and Derek had sorted out their disagreements and were friends again, the three of them had naturally come together in a sort of male-bonding fortification against all the female drama that was swirling about them in each of their individual personal lives.

Owen had come to work early because he had an appointment with Dr. Wyatt again. He had been seeing her three times a week, but upped that number to four after Cristina had come to his office. He wanted to get better as quickly as possible now, because he knew there was a chance for them to be together.

He got off the elevator and was heading towards Dr. Wyatt's office when he saw Wyatt's door open and Cristina exit the room. Cristina shut the door behind her and walked off in the opposite direction, not seeing Owen standing in the hallway, dumbfounded. He wondered if he had actually seen her leaving the psychiatrist's office, or if it was his imagination. Why would she be in there? He was torn between chasing after her and getting to his appointment on time. But Cristina had already rounded the corner and disappeared. He decided his second best option was to try to interrogate Dr. Wyatt and see what he could get out of her about why Cristina had been in to see her.

**

Owen's second best option had failed. Dr. Wyatt wouldn't reveal anything about Cristina, wouldn't even admit that Cristina had been in the room only minutes before. Owen understood why, but it still frustrated him. Despite all logic and knowledge of patient/doctor confidentiality, for which he was grateful in his own case, he just wanted a hint that she was okay. So he went back to his first thought, which was to find her wherever she had gone in the hospital. In between surgeries and patients and traumas coming in, he looked for her in all the usual places. Her name wasn't on the board for surgery, she wasn't in the clinic (which he knew she avoided like the plague anyway), she wasn't at the vent or in the cafeteria. She was nowhere to be found.

He didn't want to page her because he believed the pagers should only be used for medical situations, so he continued to search on his own, all day, becoming more and more worried and agitated. It was such a big building, and yet he had always been able to find her before. Now she seemed the proverbial needle in a haystack. He was finally about to give up, and realized it was time for his nightly call, so he stepped into an empty on call room, and rang her cell. She picked up immediately.

"Where are you?" He demanded as soon as she answered, trying to cover the frantic worry in his voice.

"I'm on the vent," she replied. He had looked there three times already today. He didn't want to miss her again.

"Wait there for me. Don't go anywhere." He hung up and left quickly, almost running to the stairwell.


	6. Chapter 6

Cristina stood over the vent once more and let the breeze lift her hair and wave it around like a windy autumn day. Then she stepped backwards and secured it up into a messy ponytail, off her neck and out of her face.

It felt like just seconds since she had hung up her phone when the door opened and he barged in like his old self would have done. When he saw her, he stopped abruptly, and then moved to stand in front of her.

"I've been looking for you all day," he said. "Where have you been?"

She ignored his question. "What is it?" She asked. His intensity surprised her.

He stepped back for a moment, and took her in. Her brow was furrowed again; she had been deep in thought when he busted in and interrupted her. He gently took her hand in his and they stood quietly for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of their own breathing, calming themselves, and taking in the togetherness of the moment.

When he spoke again, he was much more composed. "This morning, on the way to my appointment, I saw you coming out of Dr. Wyatt's office. I told you I was seeing her four times a week. Didn't you believe me?"

She looked up at him sharply. "Of course I did. I wasn't spying on you. I know you're seeing her."

His face twisted in confusion. "Then why were you there?"

She looked to the side and grimaced, as if she found something distasteful. "Because I've been seeing her, too."

He didn't understand. "What? Why are you seeing her?"

She looked back at him in disbelief. "I'm seeing her for us," she said, as if it should be obvious to him. "I'm seeing her to fix us. So that I won't get nervous or fearful when I'm with you. Our days and nights are not always going to be spent together working here at the hospital." She gave his hand a squeeze, and lowered her voice. "I need to know that I can sleep peacefully with you so I can wake up happily next to you. I'm seeing her so that I can understand what's going on with us." She shrugged, and sighed. "I'm seeing her because I'm a doctor, and I need to make what is sick healthy again."

In that moment, he felt a twinge in his heart, knowing how hard it must be for her to see the psychiatrist for him, and his love for her was suddenly overwhelming. He gripped her hand tighter. "How is it going?" He asked, quietly.

"It sucks. I hate it. It's all feelings and emotions. I hate talking about that kind of stuff. It's all so…so girly and touchy feely." She wrinkled her nose in disgust, and he laughed despite himself.

"I know," he said, smiling and leaning his forehead against hers. "I hate it, too. But it's working. For me, it's working." He hesitated, not sure he wanted to hear the answer to his next question. "Do you think it's working for you?"

She pulled away from him and made him look at her. "Yes. I think so. But we're going to start spending a lot more time together to make sure." She smiled at him, touching her hand to his cheek. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her palm. She felt the roughness of his beard against her hand, and took pleasure in the slightly tingly sensation that ran from her hand through the rest of her body.

At that moment Owen was so overwhelmed with feeling for her that he wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. How he could have imagined they would have to, that they would be able to separate from each other, he would never know. He grinned and shook his head.

"Cristina Yang, I am so in love with you, I don't even know where to start. You are the beginning of me, and you will be the end of me. How I ever got to this point in my life without you, I will never know." He grabbed her around her waist and kissed her, not even waiting for her reaction to what he said. She kissed him back, and in that kiss they both knew she felt the same. No words were needed, but she said them anyway.

"I love you, too. And I don't know what you did without me either," she said, smiling. "You're a mess without me." He laughed again, knowing how true it was. She continued. "But you need to promise me something." His eyes clouded over in worry. He couldn't promise something he couldn't deliver, and he couldn't break both their hearts a second time by not promising to do whatever it was.

"From now on, we don't try to manage things separately. We try to do them together, because I can't bear for you to go away from me again. Promise me. Promise me that."

He sighed in relief. He knew he could never be apart from her again. They may still have both of their personal issues to deal with, but it could be done better if they were by each other's side.

"I promise," he said. "I promise to never leave you again. I couldn't bear it if I did."

She smiled, and he watched her entire body and demeanor visibly relax, as if she had finally let go of something that was holding her down. She put her arms around his neck and leaned into him. He nestled his face against her, and they stood for a long time, not saying anything.

Finally, they pulled back slightly, and looked into each others' eyes. They were all talked out, but they didn't need any more words. They both knew that eventually, he would be alright, and she would be alright, and they would be more than alright together.


End file.
